


showing people how little we care

by felinedetached



Series: You can try and take us [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fae Royalty, Alternate Universe - The Hunt, Gen, You can pry fae au Dirk and Rose from my cold dead hands, they are my children and i love them, titania's actually kinda terrible and can fuck off, wait i should be specific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 07:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11984865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felinedetached/pseuds/felinedetached
Summary: You and he were torn from the same cloth, tossed into the wind and built to the people you are today. You’re the same, and it’s honestly no wonder that together you took the reigns, controlling life with an iron-clad will. Titania used to make the choices, but no more. Together, you run this show.No one will own you, and they’ll never own Dirk either. There is only one person with the keys to your collar, and that person is you.Titania can justtryand take them.---------Because I'm doing this for the thrill of it, killin' itNever not chasing a million things I wantAnd I am only as young as the minute is full of itGetting pumped up on the little bright things I boughtBut I know they'll never own me





	showing people how little we care

**Author's Note:**

> You can pull Rose and Dirk's friendship from my cold, dead hands.
> 
> This one is based off [Tennis Court](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8Ymd-OCucs) by Lorde.

You always ignored the whispers of those in the Hunt with you. Their words are boring, repetitive. Always complaints about you, complaints about Dirk - “they’re stealing our kills!” “how have they not been kicked from the Hunt yet?” - and while their words bring to mind a very effective way to silence them, you never act. There’s no point, honestly, in acting. You’re doing this because you enjoy the thrill of the Hunt,  _ Dirk _ does this because he enjoys the thrill of the Hunt, and their words and complaints are childish.

 

If they want a kill, perhaps they should actually try. Perhaps they should train, become proficient with the weapons forced upon them. Perhaps they should have learnt how to brush off the words of those who have  _ no idea _ the true meaning, the true  _ thrill _ of the Hunt. Perhaps they should learn to chase the things they want, learn that to receive their ~~punishment~~ reward they have to fight and  _ mean it _ , prove to Titania that they want out. Prove that they can be trusted.

 

The Hunt makes you feel again - exhilaration pumping through your veins, and in those moments you feel young again. 2,000 years old and breaking free of society’s constraints as Titania, sick of your bullshit, throws you to the Hunt. 2,000 years old and meeting Dirk for the first time, seeing that same love of freedom, Seeing the rush of the Hunt flood through him.

 

You and he were torn from the same cloth, tossed into the wind and built to the people you are today. You’re the same, and it’s honestly no wonder that together you took the reigns, controlling life with an iron-clad will. Titania used to make the choices, but no more. Together, you run this show.

 

No one will own you, and they’ll never own Dirk either. There is only one person with the keys to your collar, and that person is you.

 

Titania can just  _ try _ and take them.

 

And now, as you stand here, blood splattering your clothes and your wands, you feel that rush. You feel that freedom, the freedom you fought for and won for and you laugh. Dirk stands across from you, just as splattered with the dark, rust-red liquid. Dirk cracks a joke, something about the mortal’s guns and English’s face in the arena, and you laugh harder. Tears glimmer in the corner of your eyes, brought on by the peals of almost hysterical laughter.

 

You’re free, Titania has no control anymore, and your tearful laughing fit that came on whilst standing over a corpse is the sudden realisation of that. 

 

Apathy is an art form, and it is what you had hidden behind. But emotions? Tears and cheerfulness, jokes and  _ intent _ , that’s the best way you show you don’t care. You wipe your eyes, ignoring the blood now smeared across your cheek, and smile at the Head of the Hunt. His eyes widen, and he backs off. Dirk hauls the mortal’s body up, dumping it unceremoniously into the back of the Head of the Hunt’s sleigh. 

 

“One down,” he says to you, the hint of a smile on his face.

 

He gets it.

 

* * *

 

When you face Titania it is with a smile on your face. She doesn’t argue when you demand your crown back, though your heart is in your mouth and fear churns your stomach. It fuels your smile as well when the gilded crown is laid in your hands.

 

You won’t let it weigh you down. Royalty and Huntsman? You can do both. So can Dirk, as three hours later he drops a crown onto his bed in your shared room. Your eyes meet, and it’s a silent agreement. 

 

_ Wear them on our next Hunt. Let the world know we are to be feared, and if we are feared as the Huntress Princess and the Hunter Prince, then so be it. _

 

Royalty will not wear them down. Hunting is invigorating enough.

 

* * *

 

But with a crown upon your head, the public seems distressed.

 

“How could  _ she _ be Titania’s successor?” someone asks, disdainful. You ignore it.

 

Titania has no successor. She will reign for much longer than she already has, the Hunt’s work keeping her young and vital. The Queen of the Fae shows no sign of stepping down, her will steel and her grip on her subjects even stronger.

 

If there is one thing you regret, it is that people try harder to ignore their fear when faced with a crown. You had quite enjoyed the way people tended to cower, remaining at least ten feet away as you and Dirk approached. But they don’t anymore, standing straight and respectful, bowing as you pass.

 

The fear is still there, underlying, but its taste is nowhere near as sweet.

 

A few brave souls try for your hand, attempting to court you after the revelation of your status. A few come for Dirk as well, but less so. They appear to think you the easier target to romance, the easier one to control. They could not be more wrong - it is not just Dirk with a will of steel. 

 

Each time, you take them to the ring. If they can beat you, they’ll fight Dirk. If they can beat both of you, you’ll accept their courtship. Nothing more. To win your hand, they must first win your heart.

 

You’ve been called a frigid bitch a couple times before, so you consider it to be an insurmountable goal. 

 

* * *

 

Other than the occasional fights to win courtship, everything seems pretty much the same. Your crown weighs heavy on your head, and the Hunt still leaves you and Dirk the kill. However, they seem more respectful about it now that they know your status.

 

“It’s annoying,” Dirk tells you as you rest against him on the couch in your shared room. “This  _ Status _ ‘Fear’ they have.”

 

“It is,” you agree, thinking back to before, when without these gilded crowns the two of you had been feared for your ruthlessness and aggressiveness.

 

You had known that that fear would never last forever.

 

Over a thousand years is a very long time to fear two people.

 

* * *

 

It is a girl with a chainsaw who is the first to pass the first part of your first test. The fight is long, but she wins eventually, the chainsaw resting lightly against your throat. She’s panting. Dirk smirks as he watches from his perch - the throne where Titania would usually sit. You pay him no mind for now.

 

This girl interests you.

 

You’d killed all the previous competitors, but this one…

 

You don’t want her to die. Interesting things are always fun to play with. Dirk shakes his head at your request, a slightly bemused smile on his face, but he does as requested. He beats her thoroughly but does not kill her.

 

Kanaya Maryam leaves the ring alive but confused. You watch her leave, Dirk standing by your side.

 

“You found your soft spot?” he asks.

 

“Jake English was yours, was he not?” you retort, recalling the bloody fight you’d had with the English kid.

 

“Touché,” Dirk responds. You don’t intend to reply, and he doesn’t seem to want one. Satisfied that both the fight and the more recent conversation are over with, you head for the Clearing, feeling Dirk by your side. The Hunt begins soon.

 

The beginning of the Hunt is almost as good as the kill - the air electric, tension and anticipation building up until you can feel it. The dogs bark in their cages, eyes as wild as the Hunters and Huntresses, lining up at the edges of the trees.

 

The clearing is electric, and the atmosphere is enough to light a fire in your heart. A single glance at Dirk tells you he feels the same.

 

“May we take this kill as we took the others,” you mutter, lips twisting into a smirk.

 

“Brutally and efficiently,” Dirk finishes, drawing his sword partially from its sheath. You grab both of your needles from their place on your back, feeling the familiar weight settle into the palms of your hands.

 

A chainsaw revs behind you, and you suddenly realise where Kanaya got her skills.

 

“Time to show off?” Dirk asks, and you nod.

 

Can’t have her getting cocky, now. Taking you down once doesn't mean she’s better than you, and this Hunt shall prove it.

 

* * *

 

This time, you don’t head for a bar. You head home, to your shared room. Dirk pulls your stash of alcohol from the mini fridge and the two of you proceed to celebrate your victory. It’s pure indulgence, secure in the knowledge that unlike Mortals, your liver will be fine after the onslaught of toxins.

 

Your conditional immortality, however, does not protect you from hangovers, and you know you will be in pain when night rolls back into being. It won’t be an issue, however, as both you and Dirk are used to Hunting whilst hungover.

 

You both take the kill every time anyway.

 

* * *

 

When he’s drunk, Dirk tends to be more open. He cracks jokes and laughs louder, and the Hunt is always unnerved when that comes into being. You are much the same, laughing louder and brighter, but you cry just as easily. It is easy for you to ignore it when you cry, silent tears rolling down your cheeks as you Hunt, but it is not so easy for those near you. They glance across constantly, misstepping and falling often as they watch you more than their surroundings. It’s stupid, but it happens. Dirk turns from the stoic Best Hunter to the Hunt’s equivalent of a class clown, and you turn from the apathetic Best Huntress to the beauty queen in tears, but it somehow seems to both unnerve the Hunt more and hide your true emotions.

 

Noticing this whilst drunk is not very helpful, however, as you likely won’t remember it. You write it down for future reference. Dirk reads over your shoulder, mumbling into your ear. Then he laughs.

 

“We should get drunk before a hunt more often then,” he says, eyes glittering with mirth.

 

“Agreed,” you reply, and shoot him a warm smile.

 

_ Being around Dirk is like being submerged in sunshine, _ you think absently,  _ even if it’s slightly clouded. _

 

Being around Dirk is like being with your best friend.

 

Likely because Dirk is your best friend, and that will  _ never _ change.

 

You would never have thought that if you weren’t drunk, no matter how true said statement might be.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr [@felinedetached](https://felinedetached.tumblr.com/), blah blah blah, have fun enjoy hope you liked plz fuckin kudos this if you liked it


End file.
